And second, everyone is so , but they're all completely accepted. It's like, okay, you have a pumpkin head, and that guy's made of tin, and you're a talking chicken, but what the hell, let's do a road trip.
...all I knew were novels. It gave me pause, for a moment, that all my reference points were fiction, that all my narratives were lies.
Very few writers thank their mothers for keen editorial insight; I'm happy to be the exception.
She had abruptly flipped from the southern belle and was now putting on the extremely businesslike air of those perfectionist women who'd only worked in the professional world for two or three years before stopping to have children and were now terri...
